“If you want to be sayin’ a small word,” Gnore offered, “I have some I can share.” His hand was tucked under his beard, probably lingering on a holy symbol he kept tied around his neck.
Kersath stepped up to his other shoulder and leaned in, “You could also just walk away. It was a good, if somewhat overly elaborate kill. Respectable, nonetheless. He was a terrible man and his death, however violent, benefits many.”
Kre had to work hard to stifle the rising chuckle. It felt as if he had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, each whispering their advice to him. He thought that only happened in the fairy tale stories they heard as children. Despite the ridiculousness of the situation, Kre gave both sides some hefty consideration.
He never was the religious type. The weekly sermons never seemed to grab his attention like they did for some of the other kids in the village. It was likely a result of his father not being too terribly religious either, but he preferred to think of it as a choice he had made as opposed to a habit he inherited.
Still, there was a small part of his mind that begged the question, ‘What would Ser Terync do?’
The part of that man that Kre knew well, the neighbor, fellow rancher, Tehynji player… Kre knew Terry Cootsman was not a religious man though he did attend services on the high holidays.
The part of the man that was a Dragon Knight though… Kre only had a few brief glimpses of the man that was. He recalled the story of how Terync comforted the dying prisoner after the Ranger struck him down in cold blood. Would that version of Terync be proud of what Kre had just done?
Kre also knew the Dragon Knights to be highly trained fighters, with martial skills that likely rivaled those of the gladiators here. Would they have been trained to dispatch an enemy under any circumstances and with extreme prejudice, as Kre had done?
He sighed and thanked each of his companions with a silent nod. Then, he knelt down next to the body and gently laid his fingers on the bloody cloth covering the remains. He didn’t know the right words to share, but he didn’t want to just leave the body without… something. He just knew that they couldn’t be Gnore’s words, and that he couldn’t just walk away from this like Kersath could and still live with himself.
‘I don’t… remember…’ he started, closing his eyes to concentrate on what to say to the dead body, ‘but this isn’t how any man should die. No one should suffer from such vile hate that could cause… this.’
He looked up towards the heavens, blocked as they were by tons of stone. “I’ll do better. I’ll be better,” he promised. Though he wasn’t one for the earthly trappings of modern religion, he still believed in God and still believed in right and wrong. He knew what he had done was wrong, even if it was justifiable overall for a greater good.
“I can’t promise not to kill again,” he said with more wisdom than he ever thought he might possess, “but I do promise to try not act with such hate in my heart.”